Dangers of Carving a Turkey with Adamantium Claws
by Addie Logan
Summary: Jean takes Logan home for Thanksgiving. (Ultimate 'Verse)


Disclaimer: I don't own Ultimate X-Men or Thanksgiving. They belong to Marvel Comics and the magical holiday fairies, respectively. Also, I hold no ill-will towards any investment bankers. I just picked a very un-Logan-like career…

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Jean brings Logan home for Thanksgiving. (Ultimate 'Verse)

Author's Note: I've never written a holiday-themed fic before, so I figured, what the heck… This story is somewhat of an attempt to be funny. Not sure if I was successful or not… Also, this story assumes that Jean and Logan end up together in Ultimate X-Men. I haven't read it in a while, and they were broken up the last time I checked, but I don't really care.

Feedback and Archiving: PLEASE! Without feedback I wither up and die! E-mail me at addie_logan@yahoo.com or message me with AIM. I'm ChereRogueMarie. And if you feel nice and want to archive my story somewhere, let me know. Just E-Mail me and ask for permission, and I'll be happy to give it…even if you want to post it on a page for stories you hate… *wink*

Shameless Webpage Plug: C'mon, visit my webpage… Ya know ya wanna! http://www.angelfire.com/scifi/addielogan

The Dangers of Carving a Turkey with Adamantium Claws:

A Study in Family Dysfunction

**By: Addie Logan**

*** *** ***

"Come on, Logan, it'll be fine," Jean said. "I'm sure my family will love you."

"Somehow I don't share your sentiment there, Jeannie," Logan grumbled. "And why do I have to tuck in my shirt? I feel like Scott…"

Jean laughed. "Trust me, you look nothing like Scott. Now just be on your best behavior, and everything will be fine."

"Uh, darlin', I hate to break it to ya, but I'm always on my best behavior, and, well, you know how I usually act."

Jean sighed. "Well, then just _pretend_ you know how to conduct yourself in public. And no, well, no…"

"No what, Jeannie?"

"No doing anything you usually do."

"Right," Logan said with a frown. "_That_ shouldn't be too hard."

She gave him a smile and then rung the door bell. A woman who looked a lot like Jean—just a few years older—answered. "Jean!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around her. "It's so good to see you!"

"Good to see you, too," Jean replied, hugging the other woman back. "Sara, I want you to meet Logan. Logan, this is my sister, Sara."

Logan nodded. "Nice to meet you," he muttered, already feeling out of place.

"Jean, you have got to meet my fiancé," Sara said, taking Jean by the hand and pulling her into the house. "He's so wonderful. Just look at the ring he bought me!" Sara punctuated her last statement by waving her left hand in Jean's face.

"Wow, Sara, that's really, uh…big," Jean said, glancing at the ring.

Logan felt nauseous.

"Darling!" Sara called out from the foyer. "Darling, come in here and meet Jean."

Logan decided the man who came in would make Scott Summers look like a bad boy. "This is Chad," Sara said, putting her hand on her fiancé's shoulder. "He's an investment banker."

"Congratulations, Sara," Jean said. "I'm sure you two will be very happy together."

Sara beamed for a moment at the praise, then asked, "So, Logan, what do you do?"

Logan opened his moth to respond, but Jean, afraid of what he might say, answered for him. "Um, Logan's sort of between jobs right now. He, uh, wasn't happy with his last employers."

Logan gave Jean's sister and future brother-in-law a shrug and a half smile. Sara frowned. "Oh," she said, her tone bordering on disgusted. "Well, I'm sure Mom and Dad are just dying to see you and meet…Lloyd, was it?

"Logan," Wolverine said, failing at his attempt not to sound terse.

"Right, Logan," Sara said with a small smile.

Sara led Jean and Logan into the kitchen, where Jean's mother was working on dinner. "Hey, Mom," Jean said. 

"Jean!" Jean's mother exclaimed, turning around to embrace her daughter. She stopped short. "Jean, sweetheart, what happened to your hair?"

"Um, I cut it, Mom."

"On purpose? It didn't get caught in some type of machinery or something?"

"No. I just wanted to do something different with my hair."

Mrs. Grey frowned. "Well, that certainly is…different."

She turned to Logan, smiling again. "And you must be Logan," she said, putting her hands on either side of his face. Jean could see the onslaught of the animal fight or flight instinct in his eyes, and mentally willed him to stay calm. "My daughter was right, you are a handsome young thing," Mrs. Grey said, oblivious to Logan's sudden uneasiness. She pulled away. "Well, maybe not so young…"

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Grey," Logan managed to get out. All the domesticity was already starting to get to him.

"Oh, you can call me Elaine," Jean's mother said. "And maybe some day you can put a ring on my daughter's finger and call me Mom."

Logan blanched at that suggestion, and Jean grabbed hold of his hand. "Logan and I haven't really discussed marriage yet, Mom," Jean said. "It's a little soon for that."

"Yes, well, I guess you kids are waiting longer and longer these days to settle down," Mrs. Grey said. "So, Logan, what sort of work do you do? My other daughter's fiancé is an investment banker, you know."

"Um, Logan's not working right now, Mom," Jean said. "He's between jobs."

"Oh," Mrs. Grey said with much of the same reaction Sara had had. "So what types of jobs are you between? You must have worked in some field at one point."

"I'm, um, in the ice business," Logan said.

"Ice business?" Mrs. Grey asked.

Jean mentally kicked Logan, and then gave him a quick glare when he looked at her. "What Logan means is, he, uh, fills those big ice holder thingies in grocery stores."

Mrs. Grey frowned. "Well, that sounds like a…nice…job. Jean, why don't you go say hello to your father while I finish up in here? I believe he's in the den."

"All right, Mom. See you in a bit."

"Ice business!?" Jean hissed as soon as they were out of earshot from her mother. "As in you _put people on ice_?"

Logan shrugged. "Well, yeah. It's the best I could come up with on short notice. I didn't realize I was gonna be grilled about my flamin' career…"

"What did you plan to say when my mother asked what the 'ice business' is anyway?" Jean snarled. "We're you going to tell her, 'oh well, by that I mean I _kill_ people for money'?!"

"I guess I was hopin' she wouldn't ask anymore questions."

"First rule of life with my mother," Jean said. "There are _always_ more questions."

By this point, they'd reached the den. "Daddy!" Jean squealed when she saw her father. She ran into his arms, and he spun her around in a hug.

"If it isn't my Jeannie-Green-Beanie!" Mr. Grey exclaimed.

_"Jeannie-Green-Beanie?"_ Logan mouthed silently.

"I missed you, Daddy," Jean said.

"I missed you, too, my little green-bean," Mr. Grey said. He held Jean at arms length from him. "Jean, what happened to your hair? Are you all right?"

"Um, I just cut it, Daddy. I got tired of it getting in my way all the time."

"Oh," Mr. Grey said. "Well, it's nice. You look like a boy, but it's nice."

"Daddy…" Jean said.

"It's just that your long hair was so pretty, sweetheart." Mr. Grey smiled. "Although you're still beautiful."

Jean managed a smile, but Logan could tell her feelings were hurt. He tried to make that not make him want to rough up Jean's dad a bit. Somehow Wolverine figured that wouldn't really make Jeannie feel any better.

"Daddy, I want you to meet my boyfriend, Logan," Jean said, taking Logan's hand and pulling him further into the den.

Mr. Grey looked Logan up and down for a moment, as if inspecting him. "So, Logan…is that your last name or first name?"

"Uh…both?"

"Your name is Logan Logan?"

"Uh, yeah."

"And your middle name?"

"Logan?"

"Logan Logan…Logan."

"My parents had a strange sense of humor."

Jean hung her head in her hands.

"Well, Logan, uh, Logan, what do you do for a living? Chad—Sara's fiancé—is an investment banker, you know."

"I, um, put ice in grocery stores," Logan said. "But I'm outta work at the moment."

Jean whimpered.

"Oh. Yes, I've heard that ice is really an, um, up and coming market."

"You'd be amazed at the things ya can do with ice these days," Logan said.

Jean wanted to die.

"Why don't the two of you join Sara and Chad in the family room? I believe they're watching the end of the parade. Jean, you still like the parade, don't you, sweetie? You always used to be so excited when Santa Claus came on the screen."

"Uh, sure, Daddy."

Mr. Grey smiled. "Good. I'm just going to smoke my pipe, and then I'll come in there with you kids later."

"Okay, Daddy." Jean hugged her father before leading Logan out of the room.

"Logan Logan Logan?" she asked.

"Again, short notice," Logan grumbled. "And you have a den _and_ a family room?"

"And a rumpus room, and a rec room, and living room, and some other rooms with some other names, too."

"What exactly is a rumpus room anyway?" Logan asked.

"Uh, it's sort of like a den."

"And a family room?"

"Sort of like a rumpus room."

"And a den is…?"

"Sort of like a living room."

"So why don't ya just pick a name and stick with it? Like call 'em all dens or somethin'?"

Jean sighed. "You are the most difficult person I know."

Logan shrugged. "Makes sense. I'm the most difficult person I know, too."

Jean led Logan into the family room. Sara smiled brightly. "Hello again."

"Hi," Jean said, smiling back. Sara and Chad were sharing a chair, snuggled up, periodically gazing at each other fondly, so Jean walked Logan over to the couch and then sat down beside him.

"So, Luke was it?" Sara asked.

"Logan," Logan reminded her grumpily.

"Right, Logan," Sara said. "I don't know why I can't seem to remember that. So, Mother tells me you're in the ice business?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Do you like it?"

"Pays the bills."

"Don't your hands get cold?"

Logan raised an eyebrow, deciding that had to be one of the strangest questions Sara possibly could have asked him. "I usually wear gloves," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Have you ever given any thought to the world of investment banking?" Chad asked Logan.

"Honestly, Chad, no," Logan said.

"I might be able to get you an interview at least, if you're interested," Chad said. "After all, we might be brothers someday."

All the color drained from Logan's face at the thought of being related to Chad in any way, shape, or form, _and_ being an investment banker. "I'm happy with my job right now," he forced out.

"Jean said you weren't working right now," Chad said.

"Uh, I'm not. But there's an opening at a grocery store up the road from us for an ice guy," Logan said.

"From _us_?" Sara asked. "Are you and Jean living together?"

Jean got a look of panic in her eyes. "Not really," she answered quickly. "Logan just lives at the Xavier Institute with me."

"So you are then, Jean?"

"She is what?" Mrs. Grey asked, stepping out of the kitchen.

"Jean and Logan are living together, Mom," Sara said.

Mrs. Grey gasped. "_My_ daughter. Living in sin with some _man_?"

Logan cocked an eyebrow. _Living in sin?_ People still said _that_?

"Mom, it's not like that at all!" Jean exclaimed, deciding it would be best not to mention that she and Logan actually had been sharing a room for several months. "I know you and Daddy would never approve of me sharing a bed with a man who hadn't put a ring on my finger."

Logan forced himself not to think of exactly _how_ Jean had been "sharing his bed" the night before. Things were difficult enough for him as it was.

Mr. Grey picked that moment to come in from the den. "John!" Mrs. Grey exclaimed. "Jean has moved in with this man!"

"What?!" Mr. Grey bellowed. "Look, Logan Logan, I don't know what kind of women you're used to, but _my_ daughter is not some cheap harlot! What right do you have to corrupt her like this?"

"And he doesn't even have any intention of marrying her either," Mrs. Grey said. "They told me so in the kitchen."

"You have it all wrong!" Jean yelled, jumping off the couch.

"Be honest, Jean," Sara said, glancing up from her impromptu diamond inspection. "You know you're living with Logan."

"Okay, fine!" Jean screamed. "I'm living with Logan. We sleep in the same bed every night and go at it like crazed weasels all the time! Happy now?"

Mrs. Grey began fanning herself with her oven mitt. "John, I feel faint," she said to her husband.

Chad and Sara got up from their chair. "Here you go, Mom," Chad said, guiding Mrs. Grey to sit down. "You can have a seat here."

"Now look what you've done, Jean," Mr. Grey said. "You've gone and upset your mother."

"Sara started it!" Jean said. "If she hadn't opened her big mouth, none of this would've happened!"

"Don't try to blame all your problems on me, Jean!" Sara yelled. "I can't help it if you're upset that I have a better life than you. That I have the college degree. That I have the well-to-do fiancé and you're stuck with some _ice vender_. All you have is Mom and Dad's love, since they can never see that I'm the better child! All they care about is their perfect little Jean. You do everything wrong and you're Daddy's little green-bean. I do everything right and they never love me! They only love you!"

Everyone turned to stare at Sara. She sat down in a chair by the window and started nervously twirling her engagement ring.

"Sara, honey, you know green-bean doesn't rhyme with your name," Mr. Grey said lamely.

"Logan, I think we should go," Jean said.

"No!" Mrs. Grey yelled when Logan started to get up. "No one is going anywhere! I cooked this dinner, and we're all going to eat it, dammit! This is Thanksgiving, a time of family togetherness, so everyone go to the table and be a family!" When nobody moved, she added. "NOW!"

The Greys plus Chad and Logan headed to the table. "Elaine, would you like to lead us in the Thanksgiving prayer?" John asked once they were all seated.

Elaine Grey bowed her head and the rest of the table followed suit.

"Dear Lord," she began. "Please bless my family and the food we are about to receive. This is a time of giving thanks, oh Lord, and I want to give thanks for your glorious blessings and all that you have bestowed on myself and my loved ones. And please, oh Lord, save my daughter Jean from her heathen ways. In the name of Christ Jesus we pray, Amen."

Sensing that Logan was about to say something about her mother's prayer, Jean grabbed his hand and squeezed hard. *Don't make this any worse,* she told him telepathically.

Logan sighed and settled down some, but Jean could tell he was fuming.

They ate in silence for a while, until Mr. Grey said. "So, Chad, how's life in the exciting world of investment banking?"

"Oh, it's great, Dad," Chad replied. "I'm making plenty of money to support your daughter and the family we'll have once we're married." He glanced over at Logan. "It sure would be hard to offer anything to her if I didn't have a job."

Logan growled low in his chest. "I have plenty to offer Jeannie," he said.

Chad gave Logan a patronizing smile. "I didn't mean you, Lance, was it? But if you're feeling insecure…"

That was it for Wolverine. He jumped up from his seat, popped out his claws, and stabbed them in the turkey, right in front of Chad. "I ain't insecure, bub. And it's _Logan_."

Everyone at the table stared at the turkey, three pieces of adamantium buried inside. "Logan dear," Jean said, resting her hand on his arm. "Maybe you should take your claws out of the turkey. It looks dead enough from here."

Logan looked at her, and his expression immediately softened. He retracted his claws, little bits of turkey meat flying up from where he'd had his claws and hitting both Sara and Chad in the face.

Jean made a cursory glance at her watch. "Well, look at the time," she said. "Logan, sweetie, I think it's about time we got home, don't you?"

Logan just nodded.

Jean stood up. "Mom, dinner was lovely. Chad it was so nice to meet you, and Sara and Dad…well, it was good to see you both." She took Logan by the arm and began leading him out of the room. "Good-bye everyone," she called over her shoulder, making a mad dash for the front door.

As Jean and Logan got in the car, only one thing was on Wolverine's mind:

For the first time in what he could remember of his life, he was glad he didn't have a family.

*** *** ***

Well, there's my attempt at a holiday-themed fic. Leave me some feedback and let me know what you think. Happy Thanksgiving! :-)


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